Requiem
by Sapphire Ox
Summary: "Daddy, how did you die?" In the world of monsters, death is often an experience many do not have to worry about for centuries. For Johnny Spirit, though, death is a reality that is all too real. When his son asks the dreaded question, it opens up scars of the past that are yet to be treated. Milestones verse.


**Note:** The ages of the characters involved can be found on my livejournal page (VirgoGreen).

For background info, Cliff is the youngest of Johnny and Operetta's three sons. Alyssa is Invisibilly and Spectra's daughter.

* * *

 **Requiem**

* * *

 _Bricks to this old house are breaking,_

 _Steel would have weathered, but now forlorning_

 _It's alarming how loud the silence screams_

 _No warn, no warn, no warning_

-Anberlin, _Alexithymia_

* * *

 **Date:** September 17, 2033

 **Setting** : Mrs. Goresky's Kindergarten class, Room 103, New Salem Elementary School

* * *

It all starts with a class assignment.

The teacher gets out all the paint supplies. "Draw a picture of your family," she tells them, "Then when they dry, you can take them home and show everyone!"

Cliff grins. That's easy enough. Sticking his tongue out, he dips his brush in the green and carefully spreads the color out on the construction paper he has. Normally he would splatter the paint everywhere and go crazy with it, but Grandma and Grandpa's anniversary is coming up, so he wants to make them a present (hopefully try to one up his brothers). So Cliff takes his time, making the grass in neat, thin lines, before carefully washing his brush and dipping it in the yellow for the Sun, being careful not to let any paint drops drip where he doesn't want it to.

He scratches his head, not knowing what colors to choose for his family. He looks over at Alyssa's paper. She's already painted her mommy and daddy, choosing purple and blue respectively. Their hair has blue and purple in it, so maybe he should do that. But he has red hair like Mama does. So does Erik and Octavian. So does his grandma. Daddy doesn't have red hair. That would make him look lonely in the picture, wouldn't it?

Maybe he should choose eye color. But Daddy and Erik had the same eye color. And Mama always told him he shared Grandpa's eyes.

"Purple and blue are Mommy and Daddy's favorite colors," Alyssa tells him.

Cliff thinks about that. Mama's favorite color is red, like her hair. Daddy's favorite color was indigo, like _he_ had in _his_ hair. But Erik's favorite color was green. And Octavian's was something called 'turquoise'. His own favorite color is orange. Cliff looks down at his paper and smiles. It'll all work out (he'll have to use a lighter green, though, so his big brother doesn't blend into the grass).

Cleaning off his paintbrush, he gets to work again, making sure all of his family have big smiles on their faces. His finishes his picture of Mama, bright red sticking out against the green backdrop. He gets working on Daddy, but Cliff draws him so he doesn't meet the green, higher than the rest of them, like he always does when he floats. (He thinks Daddy's really lucky to be able to float. Cliff can't do it unless he really concentrates, and Mama doesn't like it when he does it).

One of his classmates, a normie with blonde hair in a headband and lots of freckles, notices it and asks, "Why's your daddy all the way off the ground?"

Cliff shrugs, "That's the way Daddy normally is. He doesn't really use feet, since he can float."

The girl's nose scrunches up like she's smelled something really icky, "How can he float?"

"He's a ghost."

"I'm sorry."

Now Cliff is confused, "About what?"

"You said your daddy's a ghost," she explains, "So he's gone, isn't he? I mean, that's what happened to my grandpa when he became an angel."

"He's not gone," Cliff says. Why are all the normies always so weird? "He's just back at the house working with Mama. He's just a ghost is all, and sometimes he goes through walls and he leaves this weird goo behind and-"

"He still died though, right?" The normie asks.

Cliff stops. The words he was about to interrupt her with die in his throat. His brow furrows and he thinks. He's never thought about it that way. He's seen the pictures. Daddy was like that even before he was born- before even before his brothers were born for that matter.

"I...I guess so."

The girl gives him a look. "What do you mean, you guess so? You didn't have a funeral for him or nothing?"

Cliff shrugs, getting a little defensive, "He was already like that when I was born."

The girl stares at him strangely, before turning back around and turning her attention to her own painting.

Cliff can't get it off his mind. As he paints, he keeps thinking of the normie girl's connection. Daddy's never mentioned anything about before he became a ghost. Cliff just thought that was the way things were. You got your vampires, your zombies, some unusual monsters- like Ms. Frankie or the school nurse, Mr. Rot- and then, just your ghosts. With his young mind, it was all still rather abstract to him.

But wouldn't that mean Daddy was a normie before he became a ghost? It's not really that weird, considering a few of Mama's friends are normies. But wouldn't that mean Daddy would look older if he weren't a ghost? And what about Daddy dying? Daddy didn't look like he was hurting. Wouldn't he have brought that up? And what about a funeral? They buried people at funerals, didn't they? But why would they put all that dirt on Daddy if he was still here?

He looks over at Alyssa. Alyssa's mommy is a ghost too. So does that mean Alyssa's mommy was human too? Doesn't that she mean she died at one point as well?

"I...never thought about it that way, " Alyssa admits when he brings it up.

Cliff frowns, jutting his lip out. It's all so confusing, honestly.

"Don't you wonder, though?" he asks, "I mean, if they remember dying? Or how they did it?"

"I don't know. Mommy never talks about it."

"But don't you wanna know? I mean, why they even died? Grandpa says we live much longer as monsters, but if your mommy and my daddy were normies, don't you wonder how old they were if-"

"I don't like how this makes me feel, Cliff" Alyssa interrupts, rubbing her arm, her large blue eyes looking away, "I don't want to keep talking about it."

Cliff respects her wishes and doesn't bring up death, or their parents for the rest of the day. But it's in the back of his mind, and it won't go away. Even during naptime and playtime, it stays in Cliff's thoughts, the question begging to be answered.

* * *

Cliff finally asks Daddy at dinnertime.

"So boys, how was yer day?" Mommy asks as she takes her seat, "'Ya do anything fun?"

"I totally kicked Lucy's butt in casketball today," Erik exclaims proudly, "She was trying to get under me and do this slam dunk, and I totally knocked it out from under her!"

He sniggers, "You should've seen the look on her face!"

"Ah'd be careful when it comes to underestimatin' a lady," Daddy says, "She might use that against ya one day."

"Wouldn't ya know it?" Mommy jokes.

Octavian pipes up, "Mr. Dagon's letting me direct the musical. I even get to play some of the music!"

"That's great honey!"

While they're all talking, Cliff stares at his father. Him and his brothers are all phantoms like Mommy, down to their purple skin, scarred faces, and fire engine red hair. Daddy looks completely different, though; this skin is white as snow, his ears are strangely pointed. His hair, dark as ink and shot through with indigo, is slicked back in what Cliff's heard Momma call a "greaser" style. He's see-through too, his arms and legs disappearing. They're transp-transpor- what was the word Miss Twyla says?- transparent.

"What about you, Cliffy? Anything fun happen?" Daddy suddenly asks, his dark blue eyes meeting Cliff's brown ones.

Cliff looks down at his collard greens, pushing them around on his plate, suddenly feeling unsure of whether or not she should ask. Momma always said it was rude to not answer someone when they're talking to you, but something in Cliff's gut makes him feel unsure. Like he knows he shouldn't ask it. But there's no harm in a simple question, right?

"W-we painted pictures of our families. I was thinking of giving mine to Grammie and Grandpa."

"Well, that's nice. I'm sure they'll love it," Johnny says proudly, flashing Cliff his trademark sideways grin. Cliff returns it with a small smile of his own, but looks down, before gathering up all his confidence and looking back up.

"Um, Daddy...could I ask you a question?"

Johnny raises his brows, but nods his head. "Shoot."

"How come you're a ghost?"

This seems to catch everyone off guard, as they all look at him.

"Like, how come you're a ghost and not a phantom like us or Mommy, or a poltergeist like Mr. Porter?"

Daddy shrugs his shoulders, scratching his head. "I'm not really sure of it myself. I mean, in the general sense that they're not much different, but it seems that it depends on if-"

"No, I mean...how did you become a ghost?" Cliff interrupts.

Daddy's giving him a surprised look now, and Momma is looking at him too. Cliff has a weird feeling, like maybe he should stop while he's ahead. But didn't Momma teach him you'll never know the answer unless you ask?

"Well, the same way anyone does, Cliffy. I got to the ghost realm, I came into the living world, and the rest is-"

"No, I mean- how did you die?"

Everyone goes silent, and something tells Cliff this was a bad question.

The only sound that comes is his father's fork hitting the table. His jaw is stiff and crooked, his eyes widened at Cliff, his eyes shiny and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Cliff's never seen this look before, but something in the pit of his belly makes him feel guilty; a nagging that he should've never asked in the first place. Momma and his brothers are now staring at him, like he just grew two heads.

"I mean, if you're a ghost, then you had to die right? And that means you were human once, right? So-"

Octavian punches him hard in the arm, "Shut up, stupid! You're gonna get Dad upset!"

"Don't hit your brother," Daddy reprimands. Cliff can see him swallow hard, like he has a big piece in his throat. Cliff feels bad for some reason. When Daddy talks to him, it sounds like he's about to cry.

"And I'm fine. It's just...it's a long story Cliff. One far too complicated for you to understand right now. Maybe when you're older."

"But-"

" _Cliff_ , enough" Momma says, her tone indicating he needs to drop it.

Cliff sags his shoulders. They eat the rest of their dinner in silence. There's an achy feeling in him. He didn't mean to get Daddy upset. He only wanted to know.

* * *

After the boys to go bed, Johnny goes out onto the porch. Operetta lets him be for about thirty minutes before she decides she needs to say something.

It's quite understanding, Cliff asking something that many would deem inappropriate to ask someone. After all, he is at that age where children have no filters and only understand that if you want to learn, you have to ask questions. And it's not like they haven't dealt with these before, what with Erik and Octavian going through the same stage. They've been prepared for the long talks like _Where do babies come from?_ (that was a fun two hours) or _If you're married, why is Daddy's last name Spirit and ours Lloyd like yours, Mommy?_ Operetta knew what they'd be dealing with the second she got those test results thirteen years ago.

This one, however, was on a whole other level.

She comes out, the creaking of the screen door announcing her presence. Johnny doesn't look at her. Operetta runs a hand through her curls, not sure how to word this. Blowing out a breath, she decides the best way is to just wing it and hope this doesn't explode into a shouting match.

"Don't be mad at Cliff for earlier," she explains, "You know what kids are like at that age, all full of curiosity and not quite having a grasp on things like privacy or-"

"I ain't mad at the baby," Johnny says, not turning around.

Operetta looks at his back, coming up to him, rubbing his back. Johnny keeps staring out into the marsh, but she can see the troubled glint in his eyes. It's probably been on his thoughts all night. "Then, talk to me, hon, please."

He scrubs a hand through his two-toned hair, looking at her through the corner of his eyes, letting out a breath. He gestures with his hands, "It's just hard, 'Retta. Ain't nobody asked me that question in over sixty years. It still...I don't know, I don't like talking about it."

"Johnny..."

"I know, I know, he's only curious. But it's still hard to talk about...and I know the boys are gonna be more curious than ever; how can I possibly look at them and tell them?" he admits, looking down at the ground. Operetta bites her lip, knowing nothing she says will help. She rubs his back gently, placing a violet hand over his long pale one.

For several minutes, they stay like that, just listening to the crickets and frogs in the marsh, before they turn in for the night. Before joining Operetta in their bed, though, Johnny goes to his closet. Looking over his shoulder, he takes a small wooden box from the last drawer in his dresser. It's old and worn, obviously an antique.

He opens it. There a few belongings in the box: a yellowed scrap of paper, a tarnished gold ring, and some other small knick knacks. Johnny takes out the scrap. It's a cut out piece of newspaper, obviously from times long since passed, the paper crinkly all over and the writing starting to fade. The headline, though, is still very much legible.

 _Local Teen Dies in Gruesome Rivalry Gone Wrong_

 _August 4, 1957_

It all comes back to him.

Yelling of several guys, the screaming of a girl, severe pain in his lower abdomen, the smell of smoke in the air. Heat all around him.

" _Oh god, he's really bleeding. Fuck, Lance, what did you do?!"_

" _Shut up! He provoked me, he-he, oh god..."_

" _Let's get out of here!"_

" _We can't leave him, he needs help!"_

" _Shut up and get moving!"_

" _No, Johnny! JOHNNY!"_

Somewhere in his chest he feels a familiar cold feeling, the same feeling he felt when he first woke up after _that night_. It wasn't as prevalent as it was when he was younger, but it was still there, that feeling of knowing your life will never be the same.

It never went away.

It just became a dull ache.

* * *

"Come on, say uncle and maybe I'll let you go!" Porter jokes as he holds the little phantom upside down while they float in the air, ticking his feet, laughing as he tries to keep them from kicking him in the face. "Come on! Say it!"

He runs his fingers over little Cliff's tiny toes, the latter laughing his head off as he tries to fight it. "Uncle! Uncle!"

"That's what I thought!" Porter says triumphantly as he sets him down, before joining him as the two lay on the floor, out of breath. It had originally started as them just playing action figures together, before things got a little passionate and resulted in a play-wrestling match.

"If you two lunkheads are finished trying to out-do each other, lunch is ready," Kiyomi calls from the kitchen. Porter shares a look with Cliff before big grins before they race off, nearly falling over in their chairs as the three of them sit around the counter, eating. Earlier that day Operetta had called them, saying things got a little hectic at the studio and she couldn't find a sitter last minute and practically begged them to take care of Cliff. Whatever, they had nothing planned and Porter loves the little guy, so it's a win-win on both sides.

Today, though, Cliff's unusually quiet, something off considering the kid can chat your ear off, like he has sugar hardwired into his veins or something. Porter sets down his sandwich and leans back. "So, kiddo, anything exciting going on, lately? You seem a little pre-occupied."

Cliff looks at him, uncharacteristically shy, "Oh, well, I was wondering if you could tell me something."

Porter cocks a brow up, a bit interested. "Depends. What is it?"

Cliff twiddles his thumbs for a minute, a little doubtful of if he should ask. But Porter and Kiyomi are nice to him, they wouldn't get mad at him. Right?

"Well, I was wondering...how did you die?"

Their eyes widen at him. Porter is speechless, lifting his head to look at Kiyomi. Her faceless features are shocked, considering the hints of orange are growing on her face.

"I mean, you were normies before you were ghosts, right? But if you're ghosts now, you had to die, right? I tried asking Daddy, but he just got really upset for some reason, and now he looks at me really-"

"Cliff, sweetie," Kiyomi pipes up, "That's..not really an appropriate question to ask people."

Cliff looks up at her, confused. "But, why?"

"It's...complicated, little guy," Porter tries to explain, putting his arm around the back of Cliff's chair. "The way people become ghosts...it ain't ever an easy subject."

" _Why_ , though?"

Porter and Kiyomi share a look, both of them obviously having no clue how to handle this. So he's asked Johnny. Great. Porter knows he can't blame the kid though. At his age, death is such an abstract concept that he won't be able to grasp until he comes face to face with it (Porter hopes that day won't be for a long time). It's even harder with them being monsters, when most of Cliff's friends and family will live hundreds of years, where the idea of regular human causes like old age or disease are near unheard of. Where saying goodbye doesn't necessarily mean the end. Of course the kid is curious.

Kiyomi tries picking up after him, taking Cliff's tiny hands in hers, smooth blue over pudgy purple.

"Sometimes, when people become ghosts, honey, it's not the way they want to," she tells him, "Death is never an easy thing, and I hope to Kami you never have to experience it anytime soon, but...some people die in ways that are hard to comprehend or accept. The circumstances are unfortunate, and not exactly pleasant. That makes it hard for some people to have to remember it."

Cliff tilts his head in confusion, "But why is it hard? You're still here."

"Yes, but that doesn't make my death any easier to deal with. I was very young, and some very bad people were involved with causing my death"- at this Porter can see Cliff's eyes widening, "So when I first rose up, all I could think about was the injustice that came, the grief my family had to deal with. Why was it I died while those hurt caused us this pain got to live long lives? Cliff...your uncle Porter and I, the peace we made with being ghosts, that didn't come in a day. It took years to come to terms with it. We lived as normies yes, so the fact that we were so young and could no longer live the lives we had been...many days we still struggle with accepting it. It doesn't help that some of my family and friends didn't rise up when they died, and went straight on into the after life. It took me so long to find peace with the fact my spirit could live on while so many of my family perished and didn't, that it will be a long time before I am reunited with them. You understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Cliff nods slowly, "You're saying that...it hurts to talk about death. So Daddy didn't tell me how he died...because it hurts him to think about it?"

Kiyomi sighs, "I can't speak for your father, Cliff, but most likely, yes. He probably didn't tell you because, well, with all of us- me and your uncle, your father, Miss Spectra, Miss Vandala- the Fates decided for some reason that our lives as normies were short. So for many, like your father, it's still a very touchy subject. Especially if your daddy had some bad people involved with his death too."

Cliff nods again, "I understand Aunt Kiyomi."

Both of them look at him in concern. Cliff's brows are furrowed, and he looks like he's about to cry.

He doesn't know anything more about how Daddy became a ghost, but it makes him feel sad all the same.

* * *

"Jeez, man," Invisibilly rubs the back of his head, "I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't need to say anything," Johnny responds. The musky scent of stale beer in the bar makes him wrinkle his nose. He had called Billy over here in hopes that he could help Johnny organize his thoughts. Johnny normally doesn't like talking to people- especially about himself- but Cliff's question won't leave him alone.

"Well...have you ever thought about telling them?" Billy asks, his grey eyes regarding the greaser ghost with concern.

Johnny swirls the dregs in his bottle around, looking at the brown glass. If he's completely honest, no, and probably never was. It's all in the past, and the past is full of pain, so why talk about pain? Out of sight, out of mind. Until you're dealing with five-year-olds that have no filter, that is.

"I...I don't know. I mean, not even Operetta knows all the details, and she's my number one ghoul, you know? I mean, put yourself in my place. If Alyssa came up to you asking how Spectra died, how would you react?"

Billy looks into the distance, pondering. After a moment, he speaks up, "I guess...I'd tell her. I mean, of course if it was too gory, I'd leave those details out, but I think I'd rather her know the gist of it all than leave her hanging, you know? I mean, best to have them hear it from the key witness than them having all these questions and getting the wrong idea, right?"

He has a good point, Johnny thinks begrudgingly.

But should he? All he can think about is the horror that would come to his boys' faces if they were to ever find out the dark secret behind their old man's uprising, the thousands of other questions that would come. The thought makes Johnny uneasy. Could his sons really handle that? Especially Cliff, who at only kindergarten level, barely even understands the monster world itself?

Another wave of memories came to him.

 _Fighting a brunette with an ugly sneer on his face._

 _The cheers from a few other boys that quickly turned to panicked shouts._

 _The glint of a knife handle._

 _The feel of some liquid, warm and runny; the twisted feeling in him when he realized it was blood;_ his _blood._

 _A familiar blonde staring at him with horror, her large brown eyes wide as she yelled._

" _JOHNNY!"_

"Johnny...Johnny!"

The ghost shook himself out of his thoughts as he turned his attention back to Invisibilly. The sight shifting man had a hand on Johnny's shoulder, his grey eyes full of concern.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah," Johnny replies, "Just thinkin'."

* * *

When he gets home that night, Operetta and the boys are already in bed. Johnny throws his jacket on the back of a chair, plopping down on the couch. He closes his eyes and rubs at the skin between them, before staring at the ceiling.

"Daddy?" a small voice asks.

He lifts his head, seeing Cliff standing at the edge of the hallway, clad in bright orange pajamas, holding his favorite stuffed monster against him. Johnny gives him a gentle smile, patting the seat next to him. Cliff runs over as fast as his tiny feet can carry him, scrambling onto the couch and cuddling next to his dad.

"What are you doing up?"

Cliff refuses to look at him, playing with some of the loose threads of Johnny's shirt. After a minute, he gives Johnny a look like a kicked puppy, brown eyes wide. "I couldn't sleep. I was scared that you weren't gonna come home."

Johnny's eyes go wide as he regards his youngest, "And what in the world made you think that?"

"I thought you were mad at me for what I asked."

Oh.

Johnny sighs, thinking of his talk with Billy earlier. He holds Cliff close as he tries to find the words. "I was never angry at you, Cliffy. Ya just caught me off guard, that's all. It's, uh, a little personal."

"But I made you sad," Cliff responds, his lip quivering.

Johnny doesn't say anything. He has another thought of that night, thinking back to the last moments. The last thing he remembers before it all went black, before his life in the living world was no more.

" _LET ME GO! I'M NOT LEAVING HIM!"_

" _COME ON! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!"  
_

He remembers those words screamed as they left him there, as the flames rose up and ate away at the barn. He remembers the wetness coating his hands and his midriff, the way his back started to hurt as the heat blistered his skin, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and the metallic scent of it all over his body. He remembers that that was the first time he ever felt true terror, the first time of ever feeling truly helpless and begging it not to be the end, before it all went dark.

"Daddy?"

Johnny snaps out of it, seeing Cliff look at him, a slight hint of fear in his brown eyes when his father fails to respond. Johnny swallows the lump that's suddenly appeared in his throat and ruffles Cliff's hair again, admiring the brilliant scarlet locks.  
"I was sad," he explains, "Sad about the memory of all that happened. There was so much pain and sorrow and _anger_ I had to deal with when I died. So many terrible things that happened to cause it that you shouldn't have to worry about. You're still so young, Cliff. It's just...too much for you to understand. You don't need that load on your shoulders, that feeling of pain, not now."

Cliff nods sadly.

"But you know what? Dying into the unlife also opened up new chances for me. Like meeting your mother. After all, if I wasn't a ghost, I would've never met her, and would've never been blessed with you or your brothers," Johnny reassures. Cliff lifts his head at this, gaze filled with interest. Johnny smirks and throws a thin arm around his child's shoulders.

"Do you...do you ever think about your old life?" Cliff asks, unsure of himself.

Johnny frowns, "All the time. But just remember, Cliffy. Sometimes bad things happen, and when they do we always want to start over, or wish they never happened. But they do, and you can either choose to be bitter and dwell on it, or you can use it to make tomorrow better."

Cliff nods again and seems to think about it for a minute or two. He looks back up at Johnny with a smile, "Okay, Daddy. I get it."

Johnny smiles back, "That's great, kiddo. Now back to bed with you."

They hug, Cliff burying his head into Johnny's chest, inhaling his father's scent of worn leather and buttons. "I love you, Daddy."

Johnny gently kisses him on the head, "I love ya too, Cliff."

He carries his youngest back to bed, tucking him in. As he leaves the room, Johnny pulls something from his pocket. It's the old gold ring from his box. He twirls in his fingers as he walks to his and Operetta's room to join his wife in Dreamland.

For a while, he thought this was all he had left of his old life.

He takes a moment to look at the platinum ring sitting on his left ring finger, a reminder that he has a beautiful wife slumbering just down the hall, that his three sons are dreaming away just behind him. That he has all of this, even through all the heartbreak and pain.

Johnny smiles.

Yep. Tomorrow will definitely be better.

* * *

 _Aaaand that's a wrap._

 _Fun Fact: I actually started this draft last July, but as you can guess, never actually got around to completing it until now._

 _Another fun fact is that I actually plan on revisiting what I've revealed of Johnny's backstory in a future MH fic, one where I want to write out my headcanon for all the MH ghosts. I put little hints here and there in this one because I didn't want to give too much away, but yeah._

 _Well, here were are, years later. First off, I want to start by saying how sorry am I for my inactivity in the fandom, as well as my repeated hiatus of Milestones. As you can see with my other fic, school and life got so much in the way that it practically bled my motivation dry, but alas, I have returned!_

 _I also want to take this time to address to all who follow my Monster High fics, mainly those are following Milestones. That is, I am actually planning on rewriting the whole thing. I don't want to delete it because it already has a big following, but yeah, we starting what I would like to call the Great Rebirth. Why, you may ask? Well, as time's gone on and I've re-read the current stats of Milestones, I've been left feeling...more than a little disappointed by the way things turned out. The plot points were well enough, but the writing and execution of it all just seems rather meshed together and more than a bit sloppy. And I refuse to let that. So from here on out, everything about Milestones is about to change. It will still a be timeline story and a chronicle of all major events I have in my MH universe, but the chapters at hand- the characters involved, the drabbles of each chapter, are going to revised. And yes, some chapters will be turned over completely inside out. Some of you may object, but this was a decision I made by myself as I spent time away from the fandom and decided that it has to be done if I'm to be satisfied with my writing._

 _One of the biggest changes being that it's no longer going to have direct crossover with Ever After High. I know the first chapter starts out with a merging of the two schools, but I've come to realize that if I want to execute the several EAH fics I have planned and have them fit with the same universe as Monster High, that the two realms must remain separate. Don't get me wrong, Cupid will definitely still be around and there will be little references here and there, but pretty much MH characters will stay with the MH fics, EAH characters with the EAH fics._

 _To all my followers, thank you for understanding and staying with me throughout my journey through writing._

 _~SO_


End file.
